


when Love became an act of Defiance

by Magicath17



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Anidala, F/M, Fluff, Wedding, and hadn't made it a thirty second scene, and now you can READ ABOUT IT, and they are married, anyways they are in LOVE, but it's just the angst that is like an occupational hazard of writing Anakin ya know?, but their wedding if George Lucas wasn't a coward, hell yeah, it should go without saying but..., theres like the tiniest bit of, this is really just incredibly soft, yes this is literally just their wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 08:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20617991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magicath17/pseuds/Magicath17
Summary: "She really is an angel. It’s his first thought when he finally catches a glimpse of her, draped in lace on the balcony where they first kissed and bathed in the last rays of the sun as it sinks into the lake."Or: Anakin and Padme get the soft and sappy wedding they deserve.





	when Love became an act of Defiance

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> I've been sitting on this for... actual months now, and I finally reached that F*** it I'm just gonna post it! point. So, yay!  
Pretty much I was listening to Florence and the Machine and caught feelings for my favorite disaster space couple, and then this happened.
> 
> This is my first work for this fandom, but Anidala are my forever and always do or die OTP, so hopefully if people like this I'll get my act together and actually edit and publish some more of the one shots I have sitting in my drafts.
> 
> That being said I'm very nervous/excited to share this so thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Title is from "June" by Florence and the Machine (which is really SUCH an Anidala song, definitely give it a listen if you haven't before)

_ She really is an angel.  _ It’s his first thought when he finally catches a glimpse of her, draped in lace on the balcony where they first kissed and bathed in the last rays of the sun as it sinks into the lake. She gives him a smile that’s almost shy as she emerges from the house, the train of her dress draped over her arm to keep it from catching on anything. 

_ She should have someone to help her with her dress.  _ He’s struggling to remember what little he’s heard about weddings— mostly what he’s picked up from glimpses of holonet dramas and the like, but he has a general idea of the traditions and grandeur that accompany any Noobian celebration.

_ Her sister. That’s it. Her sister should be here to help her get dressed. And her mother. And her nieces should lead the way down the aisle— it should be long, all lined with flowers and lights and with all her friends and family turning to watch her. And her father should walk her down to the very end, where I’d be waiting for her to reach me. And then we’d stand together, her in her dress and me in— _

The thought breaks off abruptly. What would he wear? He’s never had to think about it before, not in a life that requires an eternal dress code of Jedi robes. It’s what he’s wearing now even, the special occasion marked only by the choice to wear the cleanest, least worn robes he has. It’s strange to imagine wearing anything else, stranger still to realize that in his fantasy, it was never even a consideration.

_ You wouldn’t be a Jedi then.  _ It rings true in his mind, and he’s surprised to find how little he cares. It’s the kind of thought that would normally throw him into a spiralling panic like the ones he used to fall into as a child, when Obi-Wan would lose patience at him for not focusing on his meditation and he’d fear his master would fly him back to Tatooine and drop him back in Watto’s shop in Mos Espa. Now though, Padmé is waiting for him, so he lets the thought dissipate into the Force— an easy task when there is such a vision to distract him— and offers her his arm. She takes it gratefully, dropping her hem to trail behind her as he leads her carefully to the edge of the balcony where the officiant waits, Artoo and Threepio standing nearby to act as their witnesses. 

“I was right after all.”

Her eyebrows pinch together under the lace of her veil as she looks up at him, her eyes narrowing as if he’s a puzzle she determined to solve.

“What do you mean?”

He leans down to reply, as if sharing a secret, and he wants so badly to kiss her and blast tradition, but it’s important first to convey this to her.

“You really are an angel.”

The smile she gives him is dazzling. It’s the same unrestrained delight she had shown in the meadow, and he vows silently to live every day in pursuit of that smile.

“You’re teasing me again.”

“No, no I mean it! You are, truly, the most beautiful creature in the galaxy. An angel.  _ My _ angel.” 

“I’m not an angel, Ani. I’m a person.”

Her voice is soft in a way that offers endless kindness, but is also gently insistent. He’s reminded again of the first time they met, now hearing her turn his words back to him.

“A person. Well, that makes two of us. Just two people.”

“Two people in love.”

It’s still so wonderful to hear her say it, so like a dream, and he can’t resist the urge to kiss her now, just a small one pressed to the tip of her nose as she smiles up at him. He can’t help the smile that spreads over his own face, wide and giddy and nothing like the distinguished Jedi he is supposed to strive to be, but oh how little does he care.

“Yes, two people in love… Angel.”

He receives a whack on the arm for that, but she’s laughing as she does it, and he can’t help but join her. And then finally they’ve reached the officiant, who has been waiting silently through their antics. Anakin doesn’t know who he is, but apparently Padmé trusts him to be discreet, and that’s enough for him. A part of him still wonders how she managed to locate a trustworthy official on such short notice, and her dress too looks like it would take more than just a few days to make, and yet he has learned not to underestimate Padmé and her handmaidens, so he lets its go without question. 

With a nod to both of them, the officiant opens the large book he is holding and clears his throat to begin to read.

“We gather here, for the binding of two souls in the sacred ritual of marriage…”

Anakin lets the words wash over him: the ancient ritual of marriage, the promises they have come here to make to one another. He tries to process what’s being said, to let the gravity and importance sink in, but he can’t help but feel distracted. Padmé is  _ here _ , in front of him, telling him she loves him and pledging to do so for the rest of their lives. He’s spent so long now being taught love was bad, that it was dangerous— a liability. So many times he had been lectured by Obi-Wan or the other masters to let go of his attachments, to distance himself, lest they drag him to the dark side. And yet here he is, bursting with love and bound to another person for life, and feeling more grounded in the light than he ever has before. The Force sings around him, and everything appears brighter, and warmer. 

_ You’re wrong!  _ He wants yell it at Obi-Wan, at Master Yoda, at all of the Jedi.  _ How can this be bad? How can love and attachment be wrong when they fill the galaxy with such light? How can anything bad possibly come from this? _

Soon enough, the officiant is asking if he will take Padmé as his wife, if he will stand by her in sickness and health, if he will love her until the last star in the galaxy burns away.  _ Until to the Goddess you both return. _

“I will.”

Such a small statement to carry multitudes; he can feel the weight of the words as they leave his mouth, the binding of his very soul to Padmé— not through the Force, but some other higher power that lives in this moment and in their love. This here, he decides, is the most important thing he’ll ever do, commit himself to this love— to  _ Padmé— _ despite the galaxy against them. It’s the easiest thing he’s ever done.

It’s Padmé’s turn now, and she speaks her vow as she does all things— with poised and serene confidence that radiates goodness and innate power and makes him fall in love with her all over again. 

The officiant instructs them then to join hands, and he offers his left hand, but pauses before extending his right, trying to ignore the shame he feels at the newly constructed cybernetics. Padmé, though, reaches for it with no hesitation. He’s been careful thus far to only offer her his real hand, not wanting her to have to see him as any less than he was, but now she weaves her fingers between the metal without a flinch or any indication she even notices the difference, and he loves her even more for it. 

He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it anymore, as the officiant is announcing that the ceremony has now come to its conclusion, that they have been bound to one another and may share their first kiss as a married couple. And then he’s leaning down to— finally— capture Padmé’s lips with his own. It’s not the first kiss they’ve shared, but it is the first time he has kissed her when she has been his  _ wife, _ and somehow that makes all the difference. He knows she feels it too, the energy that flows through them both, the connection— always there— now strengthened and fortified and solid. It’s the happiest he’s ever been, and if he wasn’t so busy kissing his wife, he thinks he might laugh. And yet there is a somberness to it as well, apparent in the absence of laughter and tears and congratulations from family or friends, the gravity of the secret they have just committed to keeping.

They break apart slowly, breath ragged as if they’ve just run miles, and Padmé’s eyes blink open softly as if she’s just coming awake. He stares at her in quiet reverence, and savors the feeling of her doing the same. When they finally tear their eyes from each other, the officiant has disappeared, leaving the newlyweds to their moment now that his role has been fulfilled. They turn to stare out over the lake, the setting sun casting the lush landscape of Varykino in a soft ethereal glow.

It feels right, at first, to enjoy this moment in silence, to let the moment sink in slowly and fully, but as they stand there, Anakin can’t help the thoughts that begin to creep back into his mind. The silence stretches itself into a mockery of the lavish wedding Padmé deserves, the one he couldn’t give her, and it’s just another way he’s inadequate: as a Jedi, as a man, now as a husband. He wishes he could give her everything she deserves, wants it more than he’s wanted anything in his life— more than he wants to be a  _ Jedi _ even— but he can’t, so instead he resolves himself to make sure she knows how sorry he is that he is lacking.

He clears his throat, finally breaking the calm silence between them, and Padmé turns to him expectantly, her eyebrows raising as she takes in his stiff posture, the drawn expression on his face. The breath he takes is shuddering, but he forces himself to continue, to try to put into words what he’s feeling. He prays to the Force to let him not trip over his words like he so often does around her, because it’s important that she understands the remorse that he feels, while knowing that  _ she  _ could never, ever be one of them.

“I know that this— this isn’t the wedding you wanted. Or deserved. And I’m— I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more. I’m sorry it’s not what you should have. You deserve— you deserve the biggest, most beautiful wedding ever seen. With a party, and— and your family. You deserve more than— than…”

_Than me. _It hangs unspoken between them, and he can’t bring himself to look Padmé in the eye in the face of his inadequacy, so he turns to stare back out over the lake— its beauty seeming to mock him now— as he attempts to steady his breathing after his outburst. After only a moment though, he feels Padmé’s hand come up to rest on his cheek, turning his head back towards hers, and her face is so soft with kindness, so full of love, that he almost cries.

“Ani. Don’t apologize. And don’t  _ ever _ think you are not enough. I chose this, remember? I chose to marry you, here in secret, without anyone else or any fancy party, because  _ you  _ are enough for me. Because  _ I love you _ , more than anything, and because I  _ wanted  _ to marry you, in whatever way we could.”

She speaks it with the fierceness she uses to put the other senators in their place, the ferocity with which she fights for the good of the Republic, and Anakin feels tears building up at the depth of emotion. She is quick to catch the one that spills over with a swipe of her thumb, her hand still resting on his cheek, her voice softening to a teasing lilt as she regards her husband.

“And if you think I would really value my love below some fancy celebration, than you must not know me as well as you think, Anakin Skywalker.”

She’s teasing him, but it’s still a reassurance, a promise—  _ I love you. I know this will be hard, and it’s not ideal, but I still love you, more than the alternative— _ and for the countless moment in such a short time, Anakin finds himself overcome with love. He pulls Padmé to him, wrapping her up in his arms in a way that would normally have her complaining about him wrinkling her dress, but now she just returns the embrace with equal strength. He presses his lips to the top of her head, and even through the elaborate lace of her veil he can smell the sweetness of her hair, and he revels in how at ease it makes him feel. 

They stand there until the sun has at last set fully, wrapped in each other’s arms in silent contemplation. It’s not easy, the path they have set themselves on. It’s a secret they will have to carry until at least the far off end to the beginning war, and should anyone find out, the whole galaxy would be against them. And yet Anakin cannot bring himself to feel a shred of remorse, and feeling the steady beat of Padmé’s heart against his, he knows that she does not either. Anyone else would call them foolish, reckless, but they wouldn’t know— wouldn’t be able to  _ feel— _ how very  _ right _ it is. For whatever else may lie in store for them, standing here on Naboo with his wife in his arms, Anakin is absolutely sure of one thing: whatever the future holds, however long this war lasts, it will be for Padmé that he always fights.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again for reading! I'd love to hear what you thought or if you are also feeling as soft about these two as I am.  
I'm Magicath17 on Tumblr if you wanna come say hi or just watch me have breakdowns about Anidala and various other fandoms.  
Thanks again!


End file.
